The Second Sunday after the Epiphany
January 14, 2018 Like much of North American Christianity, we are having to redefine what it means to be a people of faith in a 21st century context as we live into our call to be disciples of Jesus. We do this work knowing that there are no easy answers or any quick fixes. What we do know is that we have a God who desires to be in relationship with us and is always calling forth our trust in the possibility that God’s dream can be made manifest, an epiphany, in you and in the life of this parish for the sake of the world. I want to tell you about a faith community that was wrestling with its identity and what God was calling them to be. They had fallen on hard times as they were once full of life and vitality, but the rise of secularism, along with shifting demographics and a loss of vision had taken its toll. They had declined to a point of four people and the occasional presence of a priest. Every now and then there was a visitor who, while traveling would come for worship, about once per year. The priest went to him and shared his concerns and asked if the visitor had any advice. All he said was, “I know how it is. The spirit seems to have gone out of the people. They have forgotten why God put them here.” They wept together. They prayed together. Upon leaving the priest asked if the visitor had anything else to offer and he said, “No, but I can tell you this, the Messiah is one of you.” The priest went back to the faith community the next week and said, “He couldn’t help. We cried. We talked. We prayed. But he did say one curiously cryptic thing. ‘The Messiah is one of us.’ I don’t know what he meant.” Well, days and weeks went by and each of them wondered who it was. Was it the priest? He was a holy person and their leader. Was it Thomas who was always reminding them to pray? Or maybe Bob, but nah, it couldn’t be him, he’s so crotchety and gruff and always giving everyone a hard time. How about Mary? She doesn’t ever say much, but she tries hard to keep the peace. Yet a strange thing began to happen. They all began to treat each other with a new respect on the off-chance that one of them was the Messiah. They got a new sense of purpose as a renewed center of faith and the village around them saw a new vibrancy and hopefulness in them as they ventured out into the surrounding neighborhood. I am not saying that this story describes specifically the reality of All Saints. It does, however, point to the center of our faith in Jesus the Christ. We must never fall into the trap of acting like functional atheists, that is, behaving as if there is no God. Just a few weeks ago we celebrated our God who became flesh, has come among us, and has promised to be with us always, even unto the end of the age. We heard in I Samuel this morning that hearing “the word of the Lord was rare in those days.” At the same time we get a wonderful word of hope: “…the lamp of God had not yet gone out.” The living God is always bringing what appears to be hopeless into new life, despair to renewal. Eli and the boy Samuel were guarding the Ark of the Covenant at a sacred site, the sign and symbol of the presence of God, yet God seemed silent for Samuel did not yet know the Lord. What did he need? He needed someone, in this case the old priest Eli, to point to God and help him distinguish what was God’s voice and what was not. Samuel discovered that God was already among them and became a powerful voice for God, showing forth a different reality of faithfulness and hope born of God, rather than the voices of violence, separation and domination that had seduced Eli’s sons. All of the data tells us that faith communities that are the clearest about their identity, that is, why they exist, and that have a passion to make a difference in the world around them, are the ones that tend to be most alive in God’s Spirit. In John’s Gospel, Philip was going about his every day business and needed the presence of the Messiah to call him forth to a new way of life. “Follow me,” Jesus said. Philip then went and found someone else, Nathanael, and on it goes through the centuries until we find ourselves here. Nathanael asked, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” We might ask, “Can anything good come out of Hampton?" Of course it can! And does! God has found us. The Messiah is one of us. God is at work among us. Our response is to seek him with all of our hearts and recognize the possibility of the new creation God wants to bring about in you individually and in this parish as a community. God’s Spirit is calling you to be an answer to what we prayed together in the Collect at the beginning of this service. “Might you shine in the radiance of Christ’s glory, be a light in the darkness of this world, and through you Christ known, worshiped and obeyed to the ends of the earth.” The story continues right here through the ministry of this parish community, for God desires to change the world through you. It can only happen, however, if you decide to be the answer to the prayer and make it your mission to do so. Bishop Skip The Baptism of Our Lord: January 7, 2018
Most of us have had occasions in life that we might describe as “defining moments.” Some obvious ones are when we receive a degree or a title, such as BA, Ph.D., MD, CPA, RN, or even the Rev. Such times can also be the birth of a child, a marriage or a death. Sometimes defining moments come when we are struck by an image. I’ll never forget the feelings of awe and wonder the first time I entered the Washington Cathedral, also called our National Cathedral, in D.C. As a young teenager I was struck by its immensity in the vaulted ceilings and it pulled me up to a vision of the glory and grandeur of God, even joy. Then there are those sobering times that challenge one’s heart and soul to its depths. I entered Yad Vashem, the holocaust memorial and museum in Jerusalem. At the entrance was a sculpture made up of a mound of dozens and dozens of worn and discarded shoes from the gas ovens. It was entitled, “All that remained.” Then there are the defining moments that can come from another person. Mr. Keith Harmeyer, my 11th grade Analytic Geometry and Trigonometry teacher, met me at the door of the classroom the day of report cards and shook my hand as a way of congratulating me for my grades in the class. On the flip side, people have told me stories of poor teachers who shamed them with messages of non-worth. Defining moments can enable us to feel cherished and valued. They also can make us feel devalued and take away our dignity. Today we get to celebrate one of the defining moments for a Christian. Let me show you (go to the baptismal font). What happens at this font, the word from which we get the word fountain by the way, is a celebration, an immersion if you will, of God’s love for all humanity. How do we know? It was Jesus’ defining moment as we discover in the account of his baptism in Mark’s Gospel today. Jesus was baptized by John, called the Baptist for obvious reasons, and in poetic language we discover the heavens were torn apart, the Spirit descending like a dove on him, and a voice coming from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” In Mark’s account the voice of God confirms Jesus’ identity as “Son,” and also his value, “with you I am well pleased.” Later on in the Gospel, when Jesus is asked by what authority he goes about his ministry, he recalls that time in the Jordan River when he asks the elders in the temple, “Did the baptism of John come from heaven or was it of human origin?” He left it to them to decide. Today’s celebration of Jesus’ baptism, is an “epiphany” or “showing forth,” of Jesus’ defining moment at the beginning of his public ministry. It is also our defining moment of empowerment to be disciples of Jesus. Martin Luther, in a period of his life when he was feeling most attacked by the religious authorities of his day, over and over again repeated to himself, “I am baptized. I am baptized.” He was reminding himself of his own defining moment as a person of Christ. No matter how he was tempted to doubt himself, he kept coming back to that truth. We can do no better. There is a psychological theory called Rational Emotive Therapy. In short it points to an understanding that the manner in which a person perceives an event is affected by that person’s internal belief system. So, for example, if I have learned to have a high need for acceptance and love because of certain defining moments in my life, perhaps when I got the picture I was not acceptable or lovable, then when I am negatively criticized I hear those tapes playing again, triggering a voice telling me I don’t measure up. The cause of my distress is my belief system, not the one doing the criticizing. To the contrary, I invite us to see and incorporate ever more deeply into our heart and soul an awareness that our baptism into Christ is the bottom line for our belief system. At our own baptism the heavens were torn apart, the Spirit descended, and God’s voice said to us, “You are my child, my beloved, with you I am well pleased.” Please repeat after me, out loud: I am God’s child; I am beloved; God is well pleased with me.” Do you see? You have inherent worth before God. It is because you belong to Jesus, forever. The Spirit’s gift then is freedom, the freedom to be the human being God created you to be, to be the human being God says you are. That freedom then empowers us to speak, act, witness to the love of God in Christ in whatever situation we find ourselves. Our baptism, just as it was for Jesus, is our authority for Christian ministry. I encourage you to claim your baptismal authority, given as a gift of God, empowered by the Spirit to be a person on this earth who is always pointing to the new reality God wants to bring about through you. It is to offer a different voice to the ones that trumpet power, domination and accumulation. We are to be a voice pointing to a different reality that is willing to challenge anything and everything that would deny the dignity of every human being. Live in the light of God’s baptismal promise. You are chosen, Spirit-blessed, and beloved of God. Be the light God created you to be. Bishop Skip Advent III; December 17, 2017
Sift through today’s readings and we hear of good news, rejoicing, liberty, release, comfort, gladness, blessedness, laughter and shouts of joy. The prophet Isaiah promises that God will make everything new as God rejoices with the people of Israel albeit in the midst of their fear and anxiety. We are encouraged by Paul’s letter to the church in Thessalonica to rejoice always, holding fast to God’s promise of the coming of the Christ among God’s people. Thus we have a shift in tone today from the air of foreboding and warning of recent weeks to a sense of joy in the waiting and anticipation of what is yet to be. Thus the rose candle – Gaudate Sunday – from the Latin, to rejoice and be glad. I remember a seasonal middle school concert a few years ago when the school chorus sang a version of “Jubilate Deo.” Those two words were sung over and over in the choral piece and I remember being drawn in, like a mantra piercing my very soul, finding myself deeply moved. Unexpected grace came, of all things, at a middle school event! Afterward, as we were filing out, I overheard a conversation between two teenagers in front of me as one said to the other, “What in the heck is a ‘jubilate deo?’” Ah, an opening was being given to me – sometimes I get it – so I said, “It means rejoice in God!” They gave me an odd look that only a fourteen-year-old can give an adult, and we went on our way. We hear in the 126th Psalm today: “Our mouth was filled with laughter and our tongue with shouts of joy.” Why? The Lord had restored the fortunes of Zion, God’s people, from a time of hopelessness and devastation. Once again they had hope. It continues, “We are glad indeed” for “God has done great things for us…Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy!” Even severe John the Baptist, a killjoy if ever there was one, in pointing the way beyond himself says, “Among you stands the one you do not know, the one who is coming after me. I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” Thus we see an attitude of humility, adoration, even worship. What is the constant theme thorough all of this – the concert, Isaiah, Psalm 126, John the Baptist? All are focused on joy and gladness, not mind you, because life is always so great and everything is easy and good. Indeed, the times were rough. The economy of Isaiah’s day was in a shambles. Israel was in a precarious place of exile with no temple to assure them of God’s presence. They were wondering if God would be faithful in the midst of their oppression. The early Christians of the new Thessalonian church were being dominated by an oppressive Roman government and persecuted by some religious groups. They had joy not because of the circumstances around them - there wasn’t much evidence there. They had joy because of their faith that God was in their midst and that God’s promises of restoration were true. That evening at the choir concert as “Jubilate Deo” was sung, I became clear once again of who God is, who I am as God’s, and it evoked joy as I found a renewed trust right in the midst of my heartache, even soul-anguish, over dioceses in conflict, families in crisis, nuclear sabre rattling, climate change, extreme partisanship, institutional racism, the lack of good care of the downtrodden and marginalized of our country, and all the other ills that plague our communities and world. The evidence around me would indicate otherwise, but I found myself wrapped in the wonder, glory and hope of God who in Isaiah’s words calls for a great reversal on behalf of the oppressed, the broken-hearted and those experiencing captivity. Participating in this movement of God to restore the creation is what those receiving the laying-on-of-hands are committing themselves to today. This is what was emanating from the Psalmist who was so expectant of God restoring Israel it would not stay closed up inside of him and it became a song of the synagogue and church for over 2000 years. The thing about Advent, if we are paying attention, is that it invokes a single-minded focus. It is a hunger, a yearning, from deep within one’s heart for God alone, for we know that given the condition of the world, nothing else will satisfy us. It is the peace that passes all understanding – it makes no sense based on the data, but we find ourselves in a place that knows that “All will be well,” as Julian of Norwich so famously said, even as she said so in the midst of The Plague of the 14th century. Of course, we are in that place all of the time, for in Jesus heaven and earth are always joined, but we are often too inattentive or fearful to notice that very thin place. You’ve experienced it in significant moments like the birth of a child, a first step, a graduation, a special moment with a good friend, falling in love, walking in the woods, looking at a brilliantly clear night sky, at the bedside of a dying loved one, even in Bread and Wine. Recall the amazing sense of focus, total attention, sense of wonder, the clarity of the moment when you know you are connected to something infinitely beyond yourself. Our call today is to once again sing the song of the angels, to know as St. Vincent is to have said, “God thirsts to be thirsted after.” We are called to have such an integrity of life and soul that we know we stand on holy ground each moment of every day, to be aware as John the Baptist said in today’s Gospel, “Among us stands the one who is coming.” A middle-schooler’s question of what the heck is a “Jubilate Deo.” beckons us to rejoice. May such joy be yours. Bishop Skip Advent II – December 10, 2017
Someone is coming! John the Baptist tells us the one coming is more powerful than he and is coming after him. When the Sunday School class was asked, “Who is coming,” they responded, you guessed it, Santa Claus, with obvious glee and delight. Perhaps I am getting a bit soft in my old age, but that response really doesn’t bother me too much. Certainly we want to be clear that Santa Claus is not the Christian symbol of the fullness of God and the hope of humankind. In the extreme, and with a profound “bah, humbug,” one might say that Santa is a crass corruption of the real St. Nicholas remembered on the Christian calendar last week, and is even the antithesis of Christian values and stewardship. We can, however, learn much from children who unabashedly show delight, excitement, even joy, for the one who is coming. It might serve we who are adults well to rediscover that special eagerness with which children wait and wait for a wonderful thing that has been promised by those they love and trust. Advent gives us this permission, to desire what we anticipate. It was C.S. Lewis, in The Weight of Glory, who said that, “Nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we follow Christ contains an appeal to desire…Indeed it would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak.” Do we, for example, truly “thirst after righteousness,” or say our “Amens” with heartfelt gusto? Out of a deep spiritual hunger, can we not wait to come to the Lord’s Table? Desire is what Advent preparation is about, but if we are not careful we will squash any possibility for desire, even glee, to bubble to the surface. For one thing, we are often taught that desire is bad and surely it can be misplaced and misused. But rightly seen, desire is a gift of God. As St. John of the Cross teaches, all desire, at its root, is a longing for God. Furthermore, depending on how we approach it, we can make Advent itself squash desire. We are told to get ready, and as if in a “Blondie” cartoon, become like Dagwood who is always on the lookout for his boss to come in and catch him asleep at the desk. Today, center stage is taken by John the Baptist, the preacher who is often seen as an outlandish, “one who eats bugs,” as my boyhood friend Ricky used to say when we were kids. John the Baptist can come across as an abrasive, unkempt fanatic who keeps telling us to clean up our act. The Baptist’s prophetic message becomes one more version of someone is coming to town, so make a list, check it twice, find out who’s naughty or nice, and shape up. If you are not good you won’t get presents easily becomes, if you are not good God won’t love you. I’ve actually heard parents use a version of such a ploy to punish their kids. What a way to squash desire and delight for the One, Jesus, who is to come. Who wants to be waiting with anticipation for one shaking his finger at us? Perhaps Advent can give us an alternate vision. I wonder if it can be with expectation and hope? The Collect for today prays that we would greet with joythe coming of our Redeemer. And as Advent always does, it calls us to see time differently by taking the long view. II Peter suggests that the reason the final coming of Christ has not occurred is that God is being patient while waiting for us. Listen to Isaiah, “Comfort, O comfort my people,” says our God. “Speak tenderly to Jerusalem. Encourage the people of God’s peace. Tell them they have suffered long enough. The penalty is paid. God is coming to lead them home!” Rather than hearing John the Baptist or Isaiah scold us into getting our life together, not crying or pouting, knowing when you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake, we hear today cries of glad tidings! It is to prepare for a future without fear for the promise is that God will not abandon us. God has acted to save us and now comes to care for us like a shepherd, gathering the lambs in his arms to gently lead us all. This is the God to whom our confirmand Carol is giving her life today—the God taught by Jesus who does not rail on us, but who patiently waits. Even John the Baptist is saying that God knows we get lost and is sending One to look after us, seeking us out in the ruts and mazes of life. As Isaiah recognizes the frailty of human beings, “all flesh is grass…too quickly dried up and withered in the heat…” The promise of God therefore is comfort. In this sense it means literally, “one who stands with.” It has little to do with ease or luxury and everything to do with the strength given to do the work God calls us to do. Until that final coming we wait with hope as we actively participate in making the world ready to receive the gift of God in Christ. With delight embrace this One who is coming to you, the One who first loved you, and be filled with a holy desire for the good news of God’s justice for all. For the One born in Bethlehem is the greatest gift of all. Bishop Skip Advent I: December 3, 2017
So, we begin at the end. That’s what Advent asks us to do. It throws linear time down and sideways. We look at the end and let it interpret and give meaning to the present. I saw an attempt at this perspective a little while back in an advertisement in an airline magazine I was perusing while on a flight. The title was: “Timisis: Biological Clock with a twist.” It began with, “Think time is on your side? Think again. Chicago inventors show just how quickly life slips away with the Timisis Lifeclock.” What you do is program your age and sex in the memory, and this $100 clock shaped like a 3-D isosceles triangle counts down the hours, minutes and seconds in your life-time, assuming 75 years for men and 80 for women. If that’s too depressing, every minute the clock also flashes one of 160 motivational messages designed to inspire productivity and creativity. They range from the pragmatic “All resistance begins in the mind” to “Eat your vegetables.” It sold 15,000 in 8 months the article said. A hydraulic operator, 62, in Glacier, Washington, knows this. His clock on his refrigerator, says he’s got 152,078 hours left (set on 80). But he’s not complaining. “Boy, I really do hope I have that much time,” he laughs. It’s a sharp jab in the ribs once in a while to remind you that, hey, you’re mortal.” The attempt then, is that by a stark reminder of the end, in this case death, one is to be inspired to live life more fully now, in the present. There is a point here, not unlike what we hear in our scriptures for today on this First Sunday of Advent. The people of Isaiah around 550 BCE are completely disoriented in the wake of a devastating exile. The temple is in ruins – the desolation of Jerusalem. Nothing is the same. The community’s religious foundation has been shaken to the core and they want to know where God is! Their plea is “Oh that you would tear open the heavens and come down…to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence!” The hope of God coming again changes the present. In Paul’s letter he is encouraging the faithful of the first century Corinthian church to use the gifts given them to grow in faith as they wait “for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will strengthen you to the end.” And when that church gathered for Eucharist, they did so in anticipation, expecting the Lord to come at any moment and usher in the fullness of God’s reign. Again, a vision of the end changes the present. Even in Mark, the people are in fear and uncertainty. Jesus dismisses the desire to cling to the temple for God is not in the temple made by humans. God will not be in the place where we look, where we worship, where we try and grasp onto old forms. The Son of Man is coming with power and great glory as the Kingdom of God is here right in the midst of the uncertainty - “We remember his death, we proclaim his resurrection, we await his coming in glory.” So the end and how we view the end changes the now, even a now of uncertainty and anxiety. On the clock, time is running out. Our faith is much more than that, however, and gives a very different perspective. My guess is that the clock is not enough of a motivator. We change the now, as the people of God, so that it more clearly reflects God’s vision of the future. We make, if you will, the future-present. The Kingdom of God is already a reality among us and in us. Our motivation is the love of God and his vision in Jesus to make all things new, on earth as it is in heaven. Henri Nouwen once said, “You are a Christian only so long as you constantly pose critical questions to the society in which you live – so long as you stay unsatisfied with the status quo and keep saying that a new world is yet to come.” Christian hope always views the reality of the present world from the perspective of the end – and sees the present through the eyes of God’s desire for the creation. The end judges the present and is why we pray “Thy Kingdom Come.” The Christian is never satisfied until the new heaven and new earth have arrived. In this sense we are always an Advent people, unsatisfied with the way things are that are less than God’s hope for the world. Yet, having said that, we also discover that our hope is not in our own human ability to change ourselves or the world. If we could, we would have done so by now. What we are about is not merely becoming a little better, a bit more good or moral; we are not here only to create a better behaving child in order to be a better citizen or even merely to instill a healthy value system. All of these are good things to be sure. Jesus, however, is calling forth a whole new creation – changing the world order and its people as a part of it. Jesus comes not to make us good, but to make us holy. To wake up and be on watch is to act as if it all depends on us, but believing and knowing that in the end it all depends on God. Our hope is not in our ability to change the world. Our hope is in One whose birth we celebrate in 3 weeks. You and I, as affirmed in our baptism, belong to a God shown forth in Christ who promises that the end is already secure. We live now and seek to change the world now, as an act of thanksgiving for the promised life to come. The promise changes the present. Our hope, past, present and future, is held in Christ Jesus. His call to us now is to “Beware, keep alert, for you do not know when the time will come…and what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” Bishop Skip Dear People of The Episcopal Church in South Carolina,
As you are aware, we are scheduled for further mediation conversations December 4-5 in Columbia. As I prepare for this time, the sentence from St. Paul in I Thessalonians 5:16 keeps coming to mind: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” The gift of prayer is just that, a grace given to us that is part of the substance of our call to be disciples of Jesus. I ask of you once again to be holding in prayer all of us who will gather. Blessings to you for a most holy Advent as we rest in the One who is our hope, Jesus the Christ. In Advent waiting, +Skip The Rt. Rev. Gladstone B. Adams III Bishop of The Episcopal Church in South Carolina Dear People of The Episcopal Church in South Carolina,
Advent is my favorite season of the Church year. I like the countercultural feel of it that resists the rush around us and bids us slow down. Advent is about waiting on God. I like the season’s invitation to reflection, preparation and expectation of our Lord’s birth in Bethlehem, but even more for the promise of the healing of the nations, all held by God’s grace and the hope of a new heaven and a new earth. We tend to race here and run there. None of us are immune. Years ago someone told me of an account from Woody Allen where a guy, having just finished a speed reading course, boasted at a cocktail party that he read War and Peace in twenty minutes. One of the people standing by asked him what the book was about. He replied, “Russia.” Advent confronts our lifestyle head on. Too often in our hurriedness we end up wanting the condensed version of everything, avoid thinking deeply and end up living as a caricature of ourselves, rather than the person and community God calls us to be. As we scurry about it is all too easy to lose a sense of the sacred. If we are able to give ourselves to the Advent rhythm, allowing ourselves to be immersed in the beautifully haunting scriptures and music, the next four weeks could end up being a kind of protest in contrast to the culture around us. It can be good for our soul to resist the frantic pace swirling all about us and hold up the virtue of holy patience. Once again we wait in hope for the fullness of what we have seen in the first coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. May we then be better prepared to sing with the angels in praise of the Anointed One who is the fulfillment of all our hopes and dreams. Perhaps we can then pray in the words of the seventh verse of “O come, O come, Emmanuel,” O come, Desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of all mankind; Bid thou our sad divisions cease, and be thyself our King of Peace. Bishop Skip November 19, 2017
What do we do while we wait? This is a question raised by today’s scriptures. We pray over and over again, perhaps thousands of times in our lifetime and we will again today, “thy Kingdom come,” but we know all too well that the Kingdom has not come, at least not in its fullness. So what to do? Each of us have been gifts to use, talents if you will, and the Gospel implores us to use these gifts not for self gratification, not holding on tight-fistedly out of fear, but freely and cheerfully offered for Kingdom use. By God’s grace, what is offered as we clothe ourselves with “the breastplate of faith and love” will be multiplied in God’s service so that we and all God’s people might flourish in the peace, unity and justice of God’s vision for the world. As has been said, God has a mission and God has a Church to carry out that mission. The mission is restoration to union with God and one another in Christ. To be about this work we are reminded today to stay awake, be aware, pay attention. We cannot and must not cut ourselves off from the pain of the world. St. Paul tells the Church in Thessalonika that the danger for us is love will grow cold as we fall asleep while waiting. What is called forth is readiness by using our talents in God’s service. In today’s Gospel especially, Jesus is warning his people that clinging to a static, unchanging approach to faith is unacceptable. For Zephaniah, in some very challenging words, complacency is not an option for the faithful. Our temptation, then and now, is to cling to what is no longer life-giving and bury it in the ground for safe-keeping. Never in the Christian life, however, does Jesus call us to a safe, no-risk approach to Gospel life. Our faith tradition tells us God is inaugurating a new age marked by a radical transformation of the world order. It is sometimes hard to see. Matthew is clear all through his Gospel that it often seems hidden starting out small like a mustard seed, but we catch glimpses. That is our hope as we long for a day when no more children die of starvation; no more mass shootings; no more genocide; no more racism; no more haves and have-nots; no more slave labor or sex trafficking; no more oppressive mortgages making millions for too-big-to-fail Wall Street bankers; no more spending more on cosmetics, face lifts and tummy tucks in the USA than is spent on feeding the hungry. Just like us, the people of Jesus’ time longed for the end of disaster and disappointment. They struggled with an oppressive Roman regime and escalation in violence and crumbling social structure. Even their religion was being threatened. What of us now? How will we use what God has given us? As human beings we are always in search of security, things, structures or situations that will give us a new sense of groundedness and permanence. Yet when I am most honest with myself I can admit that I am not in control. I may labor mightily to be so, but ultimately I am as much an observer as a manager. On one extreme, when I read of events like the horrific actions of Isis or a madman on a California highway, I know I am not in control. When I get the news of sickness of a friend hundreds of miles away, I know I am not in control. When I have to wait for courts to make decisions, I am reminded I am not in control. And yes, more sweetly, when I FaceTime with my three year-old grandson hundreds of miles away, I know I am not the one in control. This isn’t a surprise to us. In the midst of it all, the Bible, at almost every turn, calls us to have faith, to be ready. What we discover is that every hero in the Bible, including Jesus, is a man or woman who gives up control, who leaves a seemingly safe and comfortable life for something unknown. The best we can do is be prepared. How do we act? What do we do with our “out-of-controlness,” even our frustration with the here and now? How do we act in anticipation of the end of all things and the coming of God’s yet-to-be fullness? What do we do while we wait? Archbishop William Temple once said, “The world minus God equals zero. God minus the world equals God.” What he meant is that God is the only final reliability. Being prepared means holding on to things lightly. Acknowledge with gratitude the gifts you have been given. Use them well as an offering to God. Do not hoard for private treasure. In other words, do not grasp in fear and isolationism. The commitment of your baptism is an awakened and ready heart so that when the Kingdom does break in, and it does regularly in every moment of our existence, you will be able to notice when love shows up, when joy does break in, when justice prevails, when hope calls you forth, when grace happens as pure gift. For in those moments the Kingdom has come! Embrace all that is good and beautiful for even as we do not always know for sure how God will show up, come he does. St. Paul bids us today to “encourage one another and build up each other.” What you do while we wait is keep searching, keep forgiving yourself and others, remain in relationship, do everything you know possible to align your life with God’s mission for justice and make his mission and desire for humanity your mission. God’s handiwork is fulfillment, for Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again. He’s here right now! How are you doing with those talents? Bishop Skip ![]() Still Life with Jug and Bread by Pablo Picasso, 1921, via Wikiart.org November 23, 2017
Victor Frankl, in his book Man’s Search for Meaning, speaks of the “intensification of inner life” that occurred for him and other prisoners in their concentration camp experience. A sunset outside the window, lines of poems, and the most ordinary actions of the past such as riding a bus, answering the phone or turning on the lights became filled with beauty, longing and thanksgiving. I experienced this in a small way just after I had bought a loaf of bread at a bakery in Amman, Jordan some years ago. The bag containing the warm and fragrant bread had various words on it: tak, tack, grazis, gracias, merci. One of the words stood out beyond the others – eucharisto – used on the streets of ancient Greece to say thank you. Perhaps it was the warmth and aroma of the bread that had taken me to another place in my heart, but all of the sudden I was overwhelmed by a sense of deep gratefulness to be holding the bread, noticing my hands around it, being able to purchase it, the beauty of the people around me as I walked, the sun of the brilliant Jordanian sky, and the children in the orphanage where I was working with whom I would later share the bread. All was gift. God was as close as the bread in my hands and the scent that filled my nostrils. I was nearly giddy with joy. To say a blessing or grace this day over our meals is to acknowledge the source from which it all comes, to be acutely aware that God is the source and beginning of all that is good. May your day be one in which you experience the intensification of inner life as it bursts forth in the generosity of love and intent of God’s great embrace of you, me and all that God has made. Eucharisto to all. Bishop Skip |
Bishop Skip AdamsThe Right Reverend Gladstone B. Adams III was elected and invested as our Bishop on September 10, 2016. Read more about him here. Archives
December 2019
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